Affliction Of Popularity
by allthoseklainefeels
Summary: The stupidest thing Kurt Hummel has ever done was throw a slushie at himself, the second stupidest thing he has done was let himself get involved with popular Blaine Anderson.


**CHAPTER 1**

 _Oh no_ , Kurt thought to himself when he saw them stepping into the coffee shop.

The way they entered the room drew all the attention of the other guests to them and made it pretty clear to everyone that they must be part of the fortunate kids at McKinley High who had the status _popular_ tattooed on their foreheads. Kurt always felt like they were behaving as if they needed every single person on this planet to know that they were school royalty. If someone forgot, they'd make goddamn sure they remembered. They were talking too loud, snickering too noticeably and never ever left the group, as if they'd lose their secret power if they dared to do something on their own. It was a miracle they could manage to use the bathroom all by themselves.

This was probably reason enough why Kurt never felt the need to be part of the popular posse. He had his own mind. Even if it meant spending lunch break squeezed in a corner all by himself, praying 50 minutes on end that no one would notice his existence. Pretty much what he was doing right now. He silently tried his best to duck down behind the counter and watched them through the glass of a bell jar sitting right next to the till. His eyes were moving quickly from one person to the next to evaluate the situation. When he noticed that Karofsky and Azimio weren't with them, he allowed himself to breathe out the air that he wasn't aware he had been holding in. They weren't there, so the possibility of _not_ getting beat up increased to a 20 to 30 percent chance even. That was good, he figured.

"I honestly don't know why we even bother coming here when no one in this dump seems to care about their costumers", the blonde girl proclaimed with her squeaky sharp voice.

Kurt instantly tensed and cursed the people responsible for the lack of pastries creating his hiding place, but when he saw his co-worker Cassy walking towards the table of the blonde girl to take the order, just for a split second, he started believing that maybe some god existed after all. Shyly, Kurt peeked through the bell jar and as he watched the girl bawl out her order, something else grabbed his attention. Right there he was, beyond the chocolate and strawberry donut, after having been delayed as he hung up his coat he was now gracefully sitting down on one of the brown chairs. Kurt couldn't take his eyes off of him, his movements almost seemed artistic as he let himself slide onto that time-worn chair in such a classy way that it clearly made him stick out. His appearance didn't match that of his peers in the slightest. They looked like bags of potatoes compared to him.

It's not like he needed the extra amount of attention though. His name said enough. Literally everybody knew who he was - everybody who went to McKinley High or resided in Lima, Ohio at least. Seriously, even the homeless guy who prowled around the garbage can at taco bell knew Blaine Anderson. The word 'popular' seemed to be invented just for him. Kurt didn't know what he'd done to get the status he had. Daddy Anderson was rich, that was for sure but he knew there must've been something else to that guy other than money. It wasn't physical strength either, because honestly, he was a rather compact guy. Kurt was taller than him, even if he ducked his head in the everlasting attempt at being invisible, which he was _an_ _expert_ in. It was the skill that he'd learnt before anything else, freshmen year of high school. It was what kept him alive in those hallways. Unfortunately though, it only kept him alive, not unharmed. There were too many minutes in an hour and too many breaks on a regular school day for him to go unnoticed.

The dulcet sound of Blaine's laugh pulled Kurt out of his thoughts. It sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't help it.

Yes, he liked Blaine. Well, as much as you could like someone who forced your head down a toilet. It happened, every now and then, but at least Blaine would give him time to suck in a few breaths before pressing him down into the water again. He couldn't tell if it was out of kindness or unintentional incompetency but Blaine's grip was never as tight as the one of the others'. They would wrap their bulky fingers that harshly around his slim neck that it'd make him gag and gasp for air before he was even struggling not to suck toilet water into his lungs. Blaine's grip was different somehow. His hand would loosely lie on Kurt's neck, pushing him down just enough so he'd dunk his head into the water but something was different. With Blaine, he couldn't feel the anger behind the action. At least that's what he thought it was. What he'd let himself hope it was. Hope is a dangerous thing though and Kurt knew it just too well.

Almost as if to prove a point, his hopes got shattered against the wall behind him when Cassy made her way around the counter, arms packed with dirty dishes.

"What the hell are you doing back here", she eyed him, irritated "we have a full house, Kurt! No time for tea parties."

"I know, I just-"

"You take table number five, they need their orders ASAP."

Kurt didn't even have to look to know what table she was talking about. "Number five? Cassy, please could we-"

"No, we cannot." She blew a wisp of hair out of her face and continued, clearly struggling to control her voice. "Listen, new guy, I am loaded with stacks of dirty dishes, have been on my feet for eight hours straight and am sweating like a pig, so _no_ , there is no possible way that I can deal with that group of hormone-driven, nagging teenagers right now. I don't care what your problem is but get over it or go home", with that she chucked her messy ponytail over her shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a dumbfounded Kurt behind.

He stared at the note with the orders written down in Cassy's careless handwriting then he peeked to table number five and desperately waited for something to happen. Something, ANYTHING that could help him to decide what to do right now. Some heavenly sign, a brilliant idea or some destructive earthquake that'd make all the people run out of the building within the next two seconds... Nothing happened. God didn't whisper any advice nor were they blessed with an alien invasion. Kurt was all by himself. For a split second he considered taking Cassy's suggestion to heart and just getting out of that damn coffee shop and going home but he knew he couldn't do that. He could only work after school for a few hours, so he was lucky that they even gave him this shitty job. There was too much at stake to throw in the sponge now.

As he started to complete the order, he wished he had stayed at home this morning, pretending to be ill. No amount of subject matter thought at school could ever be worth going through what he was about to endure. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he took the coffee cups from their place under the counter. It was ridiculous! The only thing he had to do was walk over there and place the coffee cups on that damn table. It was so simple but his hands were shaking, his breaths becoming flat and his stomach felt like someone tied a knot in it – he was behaving like he was about to audition for the role of his lifetime in front of a group of mean trolls. He hated himself for it. Why couldn't he just keep his cool? Just for once?

 _Just calm down, everything will be okay_ , he tried to convince himself, _just concentrate on what you're doing_. So he did. Even though he had only been working at the Lima Bean for three days he could prepare the order without looking at the instructions. He peeked over to table five once again and noticed the annoyed look on the blonde girl's face. Shit, he'd better hurry up before she made a scene. He placed the coffee cups in the right order on a tray and took a deep breath before his fingers curled tightly around the edges of the tray and he started walking past the sheltered counter and towards table five. Right when he wanted to turn around and rethink his decision, the blonde girl noticed him and Kurt knew there was no going back now.

As he approached the table, Kurt could _feel_ Blaine's presence right next to him. Blaine's body literally radiated a wave of warmth and it made Kurt's heart beat even faster. He tried to hide his face under the cap and the short scarf that he wore but when he saw the corner of the blonde girl's mouth with those glossy lips quirk up, he knew it was too late. She knew.

He kept his eyes on the table and his throat felt very dry when he said: "Here we have a cappuccino, an espresso, an iced latte… and a medium drip for this guy." Somehow he managed to set the coffee cups steadily in front of each person. "Can I get you anything else?" he asked and congratulated himself for speaking without stuttering once. That was an accomplishment! But then he saw the girl staring at him and the black guy with the dreadlocks started to puff and blow and Kurt immediately regretted that he ever asked.

"Yeah", the blond girl said in a mocking tone, "there is actually something you could do for us."

Kurt stood there politely and waited for the blow. Her eyes observed him confidently and she had a sickly-sweet smile on her face.

"Do all of us a favour and start shopping in men's department stores instead of Victoria's Secret", she said. Her comment was met by the tremendous laughter of her friends. They were already attracting the attention of other costumers. Kurt knew this wasn't going to go well. "Tell us, is it fun being the school fag AND waiting tables after class?"

Now, everyone was staring at him. Except for Blaine. He just sat there, ignoring him completely as if his friend was talking into space. Kurt wasn't sure whether to be glad or upset about it. All he knew was that he didn't like the kind of attention he was getting right now. What was he even supposed to answer to such a question?

"Are you deaf, Hummel?" the other girl demanded.

"Or just too stupid to form a sentence?" the guy with the dreadlocks added. Once again they couldn't stop giggling and Kurt could feel himself blushing. God, he hated these people and he hated that he just couldn't stand up for himself and tell them to _piss off_. Instead, his hands started to become sweaty and he couldn't find an answer. Hell, this was so embarrassing because he couldn't just run away either. He desperately tried to remember how to speak and it took all of his strength to stop the water building in his eyes.

"N-..no-…I-"

"Why do you even care, Kitty?" the voice next to him interrupted all of a sudden. "Let's just leave him alone with his life as pathetic as it might be." Kitty, the blond girl, instantly threw Blaine a look.

"Why do you _not_ care would be the question here!" she said. "Don't you feel offended by the faggy way he dresses?"

Blaine didn't look up as he spoke: "Would I feel offended by a rock in my shoe?"

 _Ouch_ , that sharp little comment hurt more than anything else Kurt had had to take that day. Maybe because it came from Blaine, maybe because he said it in a way as if Kurt wasn't even human. It felt like he could've been talking about _it_ just as easily. As if he had no feelings. There was no anger in his voice but strict neutrality instead. Anger hurt Kurt but at least he knew he had an effect. Neutrality however made one thing painfully clear: It didn't upset Blaine that Kurt's heart was beating… but he couldn't care less if it stopped, either. Kurt had to swallow the numb feeling while Kitty seemed to be pleased with that comment.

Kurt decided this was his cue to go but just as he was about to turn, Kitty snapped her fingers. "Garcon", she still wore that evil smile, "my iced latte is too cold." Kurt turned on the spot, looked at her and stated: "It's an _iced_ latte."

Before he knew it, the guy with the dreadlocks had forcibly grabbed his arm, pulled him closer to his face and yelled: "If Kitty says her iced latte is too cold then it is too cold, got it?" Kurt could feel how some spit landed on his face while the guy spoke. Usually something like that would've grossed him out but he was too afraid to worry about that right now. What if he'd been out in his estimation? Maybe his chances of not getting beat up weren't that good after all. He held his breath and nodded slightly. "Get her a new one", the guy demanded and when he let go of his arm Kurt could see the mark his tight grip left on his light-skinned arm.

If he was quick enough, he might be able to leave the table without any other physical harm. So he rapidly went to grasp the iced latte on the other side of the table but as he reached out his forearm accidentally brushed over Blaine's arm in the motion. His heart skipped a beat. The feeling of the warmth of Blaine's skin on his own took him for a leap. Terrified, he turned his head to Blaine and Blaine's golden-brown coloured eyes that had ignored him completely for all this time looked straight into his own all at once. His expression wasn't mad… but shocked. Promptly, he pulled his arm away, broke the eye contact and innocently took a sip from his coffee as if nothing had happened. All of this went down in a matter of seconds, so if he was lucky no one else had noticed the mishap but it had such an intensity that came totally out of nowhere for Kurt and he indecisively stood there for another few moments. Then he swiftly took the iced latte and fled back behind the counter as fast as he could.

 _Fuck! What the hell was that?_ Confusion took control of his mind as he grabbed a new coffee cup from underneath the counter. It was probably just because of all the adrenaline shooting through his body but it almost was as if he'd just had _a moment_ with Blaine. It made him shiver. He dared to glance to table five as he poured some milk into the cup. Blaine sat in his chair, placidly scribbling something on a note as if everything was perfectly normal. Obviously, Kurt had lost it over nothing. Typical. He tore his gaze away and _shit_ , there was no ice left in the ice machine. Cassy seemed to be busy with some other costumers in the back of the coffee house where two little girls were fighting over sweets, so he had no choice but to sprint to the cold storage room and get it himself. When he opened the heavy door and stepped in, his lungs instantly filled up with icy air. The door closed behind him and he leaned against the framework, closed his eyes and his thoughts froze for a moment. It felt good. Refreshing. The chill burned his skin. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down but his hands were still shaking. _This doesn't mean anything._ Kurt tried to talk some sense into his overburdened mind. He repeated this sentence like a mantra again and again until he started shaking again, this time due to the cold storage room though. Jeez, if he stayed there much longer he might end up frozen to that damn shelf. So he pulled himself together, took two packs of ice cubes and pushed the door open.

After being in the cold storage for more than a few seconds, the normal temperature in the coffee shop seemed pleasantly warm. In a speedy stride he made his way back to the ice machine and was already mentally preparing for getting crapped on by Kitty but then he froze on the spot. Table five was empty. He quickly scanned the coffee shop to see if they had gone somewhere else or had changed tables or something but apparently they had left. Of course, Kurt was relieved to know they were gone but still it seemed a bit strange that they had just left the shop like that, even though Kitty hadn't had her less-iced-iced-latte yet.

Kurt threw the packs with ice cubes on the counter and hurried to table number five. He just couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. What if they'd left without paying? That'd be a disaster if his boss were to find out. It might even cost him his job! His worries turned out to be unnecessary though when he approached the table and there it was, lying on the small plate. Kurt reached out for the money to count and compare it to the receipt but the door of the coffee shop opened and a blast blew the receipt out of his hand. As he kneeled down to pick it up from the floor, he noticed something. Absolutely taken aback he slowly got up and kept staring at the receipt. There was something written down on the back of the receipt. More precisely, it wasn't letters but… music notes staring back at him in black and white. Blaine must've scribbled them onto that receipt earlier on. Why though? Kurt turned the receipt over several times to check if there was anything else that could give him a clue but there was nothing – just the music notes. Without a second thought, Kurt put the receipt into his pocket, cleared away table number five and carried on with his work, trying his best not to think about the receipt in his side pocket – or the spit of that dreadlock guy landing on his face.

When Kurt pushed the front door to his house open a few hours later, he was greeted by darkness. His dad must still be at the garage. _Good_ , he thought, this way he wouldn't have to lie about his whereabouts the past couple of hours at least, although the concern about his father working too much severely imposed on him. Kurt switched on the light, kicked his fancy self-designed boots off and shuffled into the kitchen to find something to eat. Normally, he'd cook some well-balanced, healthy meal for dinner but today he just couldn't be bothered. Thank god, there was still a pizza in the freezer. He threw the pizza in the oven, set the kitchen timer and collapsed on the couch in the living room. Gosh, he hadn't felt this worn out in a long time. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and let himself relax for the first time since 7.30 am that morning. He hated school, he _hated_ it. As if being around those morons eight hours a day wasn't enough, such encounters as it had happened today would have to be expected from now on. All the additional embarrassment he had to suffer from now on and all these stupid, confusing thoughts about-… the receipt! Kurt instantly pulled his eyes open and checked his side pocket to see if it was still there. He took it out and smoothed the paper between his pointer and middle finger and pored over it for a while, then a brilliant idea hit him.

Within seconds, he was on his feet and running to the piano in the hallway. Kurt's hand ran over the light-coloured wood of the instrument. He sank down onto the velvet piano stool and his sight fell on the framed picture of his mother that sat on top of the piano next to the plant. This photo was one of his favourites of her, so he knew it well but he guiltily noticed that he lately hadn't paid as much attention to it as it deserved. Elizabeth Hummel had been a beautiful woman with snub nose and a smile that was so fascinating and elegant no one could resist it – least of all his dad. Kurt carefully opened the lid of the piano and felt the corner of his eyes fill up with tears when his fingertips brushed over the keys and a distant memory came back to life. Kurt closed his eyes and he could almost feel the thin, gentle fingers of his mother lying on his own as seven-year-old Kurt felt the comfortable touch when she pressed his little fingers down onto the keys with her own to show him the melody. For a brief moment, he even remembered the smell of her sweet orange scent. It felt like a different lifetime. A single teardrop rolled down his rosy cheek and as he wiped it away with the crook of his arm, he opened his eyes. It was a long time since he last played. Nevertheless, he took the receipt from where he had put it on the piano and started looking for the right keys. He pressed one after another and repeated the notes written down on the receipt over and over again. He liked what he heard. It was short but definitely a melody. A beautiful melody, even though he wasn't familiar with it. Kurt knew a whole lot of songs and had a pretty good memory and he was sure he'd never heard this one before. Maybe Blaine had composed it? However, Kurt couldn't figure out what he wanted to say with it though. Maybe it was just what it was – some music notes mindlessly scribbled down without any particular meaning at all. Try as he might, all his thoughts didn't get him any further so he just kept repeating the little melody. It was an easy one to remember.

As he listened to himself playing the melody, he couldn't stop thinking about that moment when Blaine had looked him in the eyes. Maybe he had just made it all up in his head, but it felt like no one had looked at him that way in a long time. Perhaps not ever. It wasn't just an accidental glance that happened to be at him, no, it was a look directed towards him on purpose. He'd _wanted_ to look at him. Kurt knew it was completely ridiculous and unrealistic but he couldn't help but hope deep down inside that he also _saw_ him in that moment. Kurt the human, not Kurt the fag.

With a loud bang, the front door swung open and Kurt almost fell off the piano stool in shock.

"Oh, hey, buddy", his dad greeted him as he hung his baseball cap on the coat rack.

"Hey, dad", Kurt answered, still startled, and gave him a little smile, "pizza is in the oven, it should be ready in a few minutes."

"Good, I'm starving."

"That's what I thought", Kurt threw him a knowing look, "I'm glad you made it home." He loved to tease his father a bit on his cave man ways. Kurt got his fair share of the teasing every morning when it took him longer to pick out the perfect combination of clothes than his father needed for having a shower, eating breakfast and getting to work altogether.

"Have you been playing again?" Burt seemed surprised to see Kurt on the piano.

"Just a little bit." Kurt propped up his arms on both sides of the piano stool. His dad came to stand beside him and put a reassuring hand on Kurt's shoulder. The small gesture meant a lot, it made him feel a tad less lonely for a moment.

Kurt looked up at his dad and saw a sad yet truthful smile spread over his face as he took the photo into his hands, just like Kurt had ten minutes ago. "You have your mother's smile, you know", he said and Kurt couldn't help but feel a little bit proud. Completely lost in his thoughts, Burt stared at the woman he'd always loved most in the whole world. The woman, which he'd planned to spend the rest of his life with. Tragic, how little time they'd gotten together in the end.

 _Brrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnggg…_

"Oh, the pizza is ready", Kurt stated and got up to turn off that annoying kitchen timer. Burt followed him into the kitchen and as Kurt started cutting the pizza into slices, his dad took the plates out of the cupboard and then proceeded to pour a glass of orange juice for Kurt and grabbed a beer out of the fridge for himself. They sat down at the table and started eating.

"So… how was school today?"

"Nothing special", Kurt uttered between two bites and couldn't help but immediately think of how Blaine's skin felt on his own and it made him blush furiously. This was the cue for a subject change.

"How was work?" Kurt asked innocently.

Burt didn't swallow before he spoke. Caveman ways. "Oh, it was alright. The Hudsons brought their car in once again."

Kurt sceptically lifted an eyebrow. The Hudsons had been bringing their car to his dad's garage almost on a daily basis lately. "Seriously? _Again_? I swear I'd bet my Mark Jacobs collection that their son has a faked drivers' license! No sane person could ever crash a car that often."

Burt laughed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, this Finn seems to be a very distracted driver. Don't you ever get in a car with this guy."

Kurt rolled his eyes at that comment. As if he'd ever come close to a guy wearing a letterman jacket if it were his choice, let alone get in his car! He watched his dad wolf down another two slices of pizza before catching him peeking to the clock hanging on the wall. Oh, of course! How could he forget?

"Go", Kurt offered with a smile.

"What?"

"I know football is on… you can eat in front of the TV." Burt seemed to be undecided whether or not a good parent would stay with his son or go watch football; it was the Yankees after all. "It's okay, dad, honestly! I still have homework to do anyway."

This seemed to be a convincing argument and Burt got up with a huge grin on his face. "Thanks, Kurt. I'll do the washing-up later", he assured before he shuffled off into the living room.

Kurt put his dishes into the sink as he heard the TV being turned on and the voice of some football moderator sound through the living room. It felt very homey and it made him yawn full-heartedly. All he wanted to do was crawl under the soft covers of his bed and sleep but-…

 _Crap!_ He'd totally forgotten about the biology exam that was scheduled for tomorrow. Oh lord, he better get going because he had no intention on spending all night studying for school. Sleeping was after all his favourite activity of the day. Not because he was lazy but because he could always wake up soaked in sweat from a nightmare and realize it was only a dream.

It wasn't that easy at any other time of the day because then, he was _living_ the nightmare he'd _never_ wake up from.

 **tbc**


End file.
